A Risk Worth Taking
by Duckie Nicks
Summary: After the events in "All In," Cuddy goes to talk to House and gets more than she bargained for. Established relationship, one shot. This fic contains adult situations. Chase/Cuddy/House. COMPLETE


Author's Notes: This fic, set after "All In," was written for megabby for the help_lisa auction on Livejournal. For her winning bid, I was told to write a piece that featured Chase, Cuddy, and House having sex together. As such, this fic does contain sexual situations, including two men having sex with one woman at the same time. If any of this offends you, please do yourself a favor and turn away now.

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the show._

**A Risk Worth Taking**  
_By Duckie Nicks_

He remains on the balcony long after Wilson leaves to go home. Gray tendrils of smoke curl into the dark night, the air smelling of cigar ash and the last remnants of winter's chill. His leg aches from the cold, but House pays no attention to it.

Today he has won.

The mystery of Esther has been solved. A patient has been saved. And now, with Cuddy sliding the door to the balcony open and approaching him with her tail between her legs… he can't deny it has been a good day.

"Congratulations," she tells him carefully as she steps onto the balcony.

His eyes rove over her form in the fitted velvet dress. She looks good – not nearly as good as when she has to apologize though. "That's it? You can do better than 'Congratulations,'" he says with bite.

She is dismayed but unsurprised. As though the words don't mean anything to her, she admits, "You were right."

"_You_ were wrong. Gastroenteritis and dehydration." He shakes his head, scoffs at her initial diagnosis.

"Based on the symptoms, it was a reasonable conclusion."

"But you were wrong."

"Yes, but you couldn't have known those symptoms were going to lead to –"

"Maybe not, but the point is: I was right."

"And I have conceded as much," she half-heartedly snaps, moving to stand beside him.

"Just so we're clear."

"I promise you: we are."

He looks her over in the dress again. Having finally taken the time to assess her, he realizes that he has made his own mistake this evening. She's more attractive tonight, in that outfit, than he initially thought.

He chalks it up to the victory. There's something about finding a last minute diagnosis that makes him confident, eager to screw, and blind to the possible complications of the act. In this state, he could go for anyone in his path. Right now though, Cuddy is the one in front of him.

The attraction he feels isn't as disturbing as maybe it should be. He doesn't act on it, however, not _yet_ anyway.

"What are you doing here?" he asks.

She shrugs, looks out over the balcony at the city lights. "You did a good job today. I wanted to let you know."

"You make it sound like that's a rare occurrence."

"No. That's not what I mean. Today was just incredibly… impressive."

He thinks that's not why she's here, not the only reason, but he realizes that this may be a simple case of projection on his part. He does not press the matter further.

Instead he changes the subject. "You know, when erect, the average woman's nipples are slightly taller than a stack of five quarters."

She shoots him a dirty look. "You want to pull out your money or…"

"Just thought you'd like to know," he says, taking a long pull on his cigar.

She reads into the act more than she should. "It's cold, House. I'm not turned on by –"

"I didn't say you were. The fact that you _think_ that's what I said tells me that –"

"Don't play that game. I didn't come here for that." He exhales, blows smoke nearly in her face, as he prepares to respond. But she doesn't let him say anything. "Can you put that out? It's giving me a headache."

He snubs the cigar out on the balcony. "Not doing this for you. It's just that the chemicals in cigarettes and cigars break down the body's elastin, and I would hate to ruin your breasts with –"

"According to you, they're already lopsided."

"Did that hurt your little _feelings_?" he mocks. "Well you can't blame me for being mistaken. It's been a while since I last saw them."

They share a look, an understanding that that's a lie. It hasn't been a while. It's been a few months, but there hasn't been the passage of time his words suggest. There has been Stacy, for a brief moment, but now he is back to Cuddy, to the one who likes to have casual sex with him as much as he does with her.

"I thought we agreed last time would be the last time," she says quietly.

"No, we agreed we wouldn't talk about last time."

"You brought it up."

"And you're _here_."

"Not for that."

His mouth twists in thought, as he tries to figure out just how much he believes her. He decides he doesn't. "If this exchange were happening without context, I might agree with you. But based on our history, when I save your ass, I also get it as a reward. Or was it the crippled handyman that did it?"

"I was upset. I'm fine now."

"Okay." If that's the way she wants to play it, he's game. "Whatever."

"You're amazing," she says judgmentally. "You think I would be interested after you said my breasts were –"

"You're still pissed about that?" he asks in surprise. He didn't think she was so thin skinned.

"I'm not mad. But I'm not going to have sex with someone who acts as though my body isn't –"

"I didn't mean that, Cuddy," he insists irritably.

She fails to hide her amusement. "And you're telling me this because _you_ want to have sex."

His eyes narrow on her. "Like you don't."

The conversation can't go any further than that. In order to keep talking, one of them will have to admit the attraction they both feel or adamantly deny it and incur the wrath of the other. It goes without saying that neither of them will do that. Their only options are to walk away or indulge in what they refuse to say they want.

But if those are the two choices, there is only one way this will end. She didn't come here, and he didn't stay, for them to leave without getting what they want.

How they end up pressed together, he doesn't know. He can't say for sure if she stepped towards him or if he pulled her close, but suddenly, she's in his arms. She's kissing him. She's cool to the touch, goose bumps against his fingertips. But the nearer he brings her, the easier it is to feel the heat encased in that tight velvet dress of hers.

Knowing what they are about to do, he suddenly feels an overwhelming need to rip her clothes off of her. He forces himself to resist the urge. His fingers slide through her hair, roughly clutch at the dark strands. Hers are busy trying to undo his pants.

His eyes closed, he can't see what she's doing, but he can feel her fingers busying themselves against his stomach and groin. And knowing what she's about to do, again he can barely contain himself.

But just as she pulls down the zipper of his pants, she stops, steps away from him. "Condom?" she asks, her voice huskier than usual.

If he deflects, it's because the reaction is second nature to him, not because he cares that she wants protection. "Off the birth control?" he asks snidely. "Did you finally realize sperm was running in the opposite direction of your eggs or –"

"I know you've had sex the last couple months," she says, unbothered by the comment.

"How did you – _Wilson_," he deduces as soon as he starts to ask the question.

She doesn't confirm. "I can only guess how you have distracted yourself since Stacy left, but –"

"Which is why I was tested –"

"And?"

"And what?"

She nearly growls as she elaborates. "What were the results?"

"I'm clean." She looks unconvinced as though his answer is too easy to be believed. He doesn't back down, irritably explaining, "I've got the test results in my desk if you want –"

"I do."

Without hesitating or complaining, he pulls away from her. His pants hang loosely around his hips as he pushes his way back into his office. She follows him at his heels. Perhaps she doesn't trust him to have the test results; maybe she thinks it's a trick, but it's not. He knows the sheet of paper is in one of his drawers, the condoms should he not find it in another.

Sitting down in his desk chair, he pulls a drawer open. As he looks, she asks him, "Why did you even bring it to work?"

"Because I used a pseudonym and got tested at –"

"House," she says with disdain.

He ignores the comment, as he's finally found what he's looking for. Tossing the paper in her face, he tells her, "There. Your proof."

He leans back in his chair and eyes her. Her ass is pressed against the desk, so that she faces him. As she reads what's in her hands, her hair spills forward, lightly curled tresses tickling her cheeks. She looks over the sheet of paper carefully before saying, "Okay."

"I would ask you about your history, but I think we both know that's a waste of my time."

"If all you're going to do is insult me –"

"No, I'm going to make this worth your while." He has to say it, because she's on the verge of leaving. But he means it; he has no intention of letting her go until he has satisfied her every need. "Close the blinds, will you?"

She does, but as she heads back to him, she says, "This is the last time."

All evidence suggests otherwise, that they will do this again eventually. For now though, he won't object. If that's what she needs to believe, he can appreciate that. So he tells her, "Well if there's one thing I know how to do, it's finish. Get your ass over here."

Cuddy smirks, his eagerness seemingly amusing her. His suspicion is confirmed in the way she _slowly_ approaches him. She's toying with him in the hopes that he'll beg her to come to him. For that reason, he stays quiet. He watches her intently, gaze wandering from her breasts to the way she sways her hips.

When she's finally in front of him, she goes to sit in his lap, but he has other plans. Hands on her thighs, he pushes her back against the desk. She needs no instruction; without hesitation, she hoists herself onto the tabletop.

She leans back a little, body propped up on her hands. But she goes no further. In his head, he imagines her spreading her legs, touching herself, doing something to up the lewd factor. That's never been how she's behaved however.

By far she has, he has come to realize, been the most demanding and unyielding of women he's ever slept with. When he's with her like this, he has to work hard to get what he wants. As though every victory he's had professionally must be balanced by one of her own on a personal level, she is in control here. She has _always_ been in control when it comes to this.

He's okay with that too. He doesn't back down from challenges, and more importantly, if she's the one making the decisions in any way, he can blame her for all of it.

_She's_ the reason they have sex. She is why he reaches down and takes the hem of her dress into his grasp. It is _her_ fault that he pushes the velvet up to her soft thighs and slips his hand between her knees. He's not responsible for this or the way his dick has begun to feel increasingly uncomfortable in his pants.

Of her own volition, she opens her legs to make room for his fingers. He decides to take advantage of the situation before she changes her mind. He goes to take her underwear off… only to be met with surprisingly feel of her pussy.

He raises an eyebrow. "No underwear?"

"You _must_ have been distracted if you're just now noticing."

"I know you think that I think about _this_ all day," he says, wiggling two fingers passed her labia and into her warm cunt. She's not as wet as he wants, so he applies his thumb to her clit and begins to rub her in gentle circles. "But I was kinda focused on saving my patient. Just a little bit."

"I meant after that." She sounds annoyed, frustrated by the fact that she is trying to make a point while get off at the same time. Her hips buck against him to throw herself into the pleasure he's attempting to give her. Juices begin to coat his fingers, her heat clenching him tightly.

"Hike up your skirt," he orders. "I want to get a taste."

She glares at him. "Don't tell me what to do."

He thrusts his fingers into her roughly. "I have to stop doing _this_ if you want me to do that," he explains with agitation. "So if you want me to stop fingering you _and_ you want your dress to look like you just got laid, by all means, refuse to –"

"Shut up," she interrupts, yanking her dress up as best she can. The fabric is trapped underneath her body, and given what he's doing, she obviously doesn't have the willpower to lift herself off the desk to pull the skirt up entirely. Her efforts are successful enough however, and she's able to spread her legs for him.

He smiles at the sight of her – open and ready and waiting for his body. But the reaction seems too personal, too kind, and he is quick to cover it up by saying patronizingly, "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"I said shut up."

"Actually, you said –"

"Either put your mouth to better use or I'm leaving," she threatens.

Obeying her commands is not something he's used to. Instinct has him ready to pull away and leave. Never mind that this was his idea to begin with, that they have gotten this far _only_ because he pushed their conversation in this direction. He doesn't like being told what to do any more than she does. But after a moment's hesitation, he remembers that there is no point in resisting her. Giving her what she wants means he gets what he wants. That's all that matters.

Still he warns her, lips on her thigh, "Keep telling me what to do, and see how that works out."

Going as slowly as he can, he kisses her way towards her vagina, giving her plenty of time to say arrogantly, "I don't know. It's worked out for me so far."

He shuts her up by offering her a long lick, his tongue moving upward from her hole to her clitoris. His stubble lightly scratches against her, but he doesn't worry about that much. The soft sound of approval she makes means she likes the friction (and the way he's laving over her clit), and _he _likes the idea of leaving her with beard burn. Tomorrow when they have to pretend that this didn't happen, he wants to know he's left irrefutable proof that it did.

Once more, his mouth moves along her slit until he's at her entrance. Her juices easily slide onto his tongue, his nose pressed into her folds. He relishes her taste, the subtle saltiness and sweet essence. He doesn't get to do this often – to her or to anyone – and he supposes the only person who wants this to last more than he does is Cuddy herself. She is, after all, just as deprived of this as he is.

Of course their reasons couldn't be more different. She's equal parts too busy, too unapproachable, and too picky. He can have sex any time he wants on the other hand, but of all the things he'll pay a prostitute for, giving _her_ oral sex is not one of them.

He tries not to think about that though – not when he has a woman with him without money being involved. In the moment, the sentiment seems overly crass, and it's enough to push him back into the sensation of her body rubbing against him.

His fingers spread her labia apart, so that his tongue can slip inside of her. He enters her as slowly as he can while being forceful at the same time. Although he has no intention of rushing this, he knows what gets her off. Being light with his touches isn't her kink.

As if to prove the point, she keens forward. Hands grabbing at him, her fingers grip his hair roughly. She holds him close, his face being forced against her body. Her scent surrounds him, so much so that it's almost overwhelming. But he doesn't try to pull away. At least, he doesn't do that at first.

He gives her what she wants for a while – tongue darting in and out of her, curling in her pussy, tasting her, making her wetter. His thumb strokes her clit every now and then to make her want him more. And just when she starts to make those sounds that suggest she's reached her limit, he forcefully wrests himself from her grasp.

He pulls away.

What he wants is to drive her nuts, make her work just as hard as he is.

What he does not intend is to be met with Chase standing in the doorway.

The other man is clearly surprised, has undeniably witnessed the two people he works for having sex. Cuddy ignorantly tugs at House's hair to get him to finish what he has started. But House is frozen with indecision.

There's no point in coming up with an explanation. There _isn't_ one that will explain what Chase has seen. For that reason alone, House is tempted to pretend that he hasn't seen Chase at all. Yet House knows it wouldn't be right to continue on as if nothing had happened. Whatever this thing with Cuddy is, it is dependent on their ability to trust one another. If he keeps this from her, it won't matter; she'll eventually find out the truth, and then she'll never come to him again.

He leans back in his chair to free himself completely of her grasp. The words coming instinctively, he snaps at Chase unapologetically, "You're just gonna stand there and watch?"

House sees the fear in Cuddy's eyes, the question. She wants to know who has caught them, how bad this is for her. But she doesn't say anything to him, doesn't ask. Terrified as she is, she won't allow any weakness to show through.

Suddenly awash with confidence, she turns her head to see who is at the door. Although he only catches a small portion of the look she's giving Chase, House knows it's a look of indignation, one that says, "How dare you interrupt."

Having mommy issues, Chase instantly falls in line. He blushes; he apologizes, "I'm sorry. I forgot my – I am so sorry. You –"

"Let me save you the trouble of embarrassing yourself any further," House interrupts. Normally watching one of his fellows flounder would be amusing. With Cuddy's pussy still laid bare for him to see however, House thinks there are better ways to get his kicks. "You're not going to tell anyone about this. You're not going to use this to your advantage, because _this_ doesn't work to your advantage. You can make whatever threats you want, but no one will believe you. And –"

"Stop talking," Cuddy tells him with agitation. Turning to Chase, she says in a similar tone, "Either join or get out."

It's clear in Chase's hesitation what he wants. Rationally he must understand that it's not an invitation she has just extended him. But if he's sticking around for even a nanosecond, it means that some part of him would like to join.

House is about to make fun of him for even thinking that that might happen. But before he can get the words out, Cuddy is beckoning for Chase to come closer to her. Chase is understandably quick to obey; the possibility of having sex with the hottest and most powerful woman in the hospital tends to make men submissive. Nevertheless, he is aware that House is in the room as well, and House isn't bothering to hide his displeasure. So Chase carefully skirts his way to Cuddy and intentionally doesn't look at House.

When Chase is next to her, she turns her upper body to face him better. Reaching up, she grabs him by the shirt and tugs on him. He is eager to lean down and kiss her. As he slips his tongue into her mouth, House looks on with a grimace.

She's doing this to make him miserable, he thinks.

To make him jealous.

And it's working.

Just as quickly as it starts though, the kiss ends. She pulls away and tells Chase in a soft voice, "I don't want anyone else to see this. Would you mind closing the blinds in the office next door and locking both doors?"

Chase looks over at House, as though he knows this has more to do with getting him out of the room than it does privacy. Nevertheless he agrees, "No problem."

The second he slips into the fellows' office, she turns her attention back to House. "You look unhappy," she says, smirking.

"I didn't realize this was going to be a gang bang."

"Easiest way to keep him quiet is to make him complicit in –"

"Yeah, I'm _pretty sure_ I had his silence covered until you interrupted and offered him a hole to –"

She's pleased by this development. "You sound jealous."

He shakes his head more quickly than he can say, "_Noooooo_. That's not it at _all_." He goes to say more, but she assumes he's finished.

"Good. Because you should know by now that I'm not your girlfriend."

"I don't want you to be."

"I'm not here, because I want you to –"

"Get to the point."

"You can stay, or you can go, but I'm not here to please you."

She isn't saying anything he doesn't already know. He understands that he has no claim to her. He gets that she controls all of this, that without her consent, he gets _nothing_. But by the same token, sex with Chase is not the step he imagined taking, not the kind of act he thought would happen tonight. And try as he might, House can't see why he should stick around for the succubus devouring her latest prey.

"Oh, you want me to stay?" he asks sarcastically. "Why would I want to do –"

"Think about it," she says, slipping off the desk and moving onto his lap. "He has no clue about our relationship. When he leaves here tonight, all he's going to think about is how _amazing_ you must be to keep me interested and have me do all the things I –"

"I get you to do things?" He's tempted to laugh at the idea. As often as he tries to wrangle her into his plans, when it comes to this, he can't have her do _anything_ she hasn't already wanted to do on her own. He can't even get her to suck him off, the sole time she did it resulting in an announcement that the Vicodin made him too bitter, that she would never do it again unless he changed his ways.

Really, the only thing Chase will take away from tonight is that House is her toy.

Sensing that he will be undermined, he says, "Since when have I ever had the chance to have you do _all_ the –"

"You give me what I want," she offers in a low voice, placing a kiss on his jaw. "I'll give you whatever you want. _Whatever_."

For him it's an irresistible sentiment. They play with limits all day long, with Cuddy trying to enforce them, him trying to brush right past them. To be allowed the freedom to do as he wishes is too enticing to refuse. Even as part of House understands that there _are_ things she'll deny him, no matter what she says, the possibilities seem endless at that moment. The power she has given him feels real, and it no longer bothers him that Chase will be a witness to it.

Now it's the opposite in fact. Instead of being opposed, House is happy to allow someone as eager to please as Chase into the mix. Really, Chase could become quite useful when directed in the right way.

"You have no idea what you've just done," House tells her.

She is unconcerned. "I can handle it."

"You're not that adventurous." But even while he says it, he remembers that she hasn't always been so buttoned up. She _was_ the party girl in college; though he didn't have the opportunity to spend much time with her, from what he had seen then, she'd probably had her fair share of wild nights. And then he recalls just how at ease she became when dealing with Chase only a few moments ago. She was nervous at first, but quickly the fear melted away into desire. Perhaps she longs for those nights; maybe that's why she has indulged House's advances at all.

Curious as it makes him, there's no time to question her about it. She's dragging her hand to his cock, pulling him mentally into her scheme with great ease and effect. When Chase returns, House doesn't even notice. Cuddy's too busy jerking him off for that. All he understands then is that, no matter what she's promised, he's _not_ the one in control here.

She looks over to Chase. "Did you lock all the doors?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Good." She smiles, takes a moment to kiss House. When he's ready to beg for more, she pulls her mouth away and says to Chase, "Since you work together on a daily basis, I think it would be better if you kept your attentions on me."

Even in his haze, House understands the implication. His brain operating on autopilot, he makes fun of her. "Of _course_ you do. Taking two for the good of the company, right?"

She doesn't say anything to punish him for the remark, but she lets her displeasure be known by taking her hand off his erection. He doesn't show that he's unhappy about this development; that would make Chase think she has the upper hand. But more than that, House is okay with delayed gratification. If this wasn't what he originally wanted, he sure as hell is determined to last long enough to enjoy all of it.

And if her intention is to make him unhappy, she doesn't bother watching him to see whether she's had the desired effect. She's too busy talking to Chase.

"Take off your pants," she says in a voice that is only superficially sweet. The soft tones don't hide the order behind them.

Chase surprisingly doesn't budge. "Take off your dress."

Without hesitation, she slides off House's lap. Her hands grab at the velvet clinging to her, and she easily slips it off. Her bra doesn't stay on long enough for House to notice how it looks on her.

But he's not unhappy about that.

Neither is Chase, who stares at her wide-eyed.

House is amused by the expression, if only because it reminds him of the first time he saw her naked. That pale flesh. Those pert tits and hot little snatch. As annoyed as he wants to be by Chase's amazed pause, House recalls tamping down a similar reaction of his own. Cuddy just looks that good without clothing.

"My God," Chase nearly exclaims. "If I'd known you were _that_ gorgeous, I –"

"Your pants," Cuddy insists, hand on a bare hip. She isn't impressed by or interested in flattery.

"Yeah. Sure. Of course." He fumbles on the belt buckle.

"Let me," she offers. Chase is unable to refuse, and House is too entranced by the scene to do anything other than watch. Cuddy is the only one calm enough to undress Chase. And she does so quickly.

First his suit jacket goes. Then his button down shirt. Chase half-heartedly manages to participate by kicking off his shoes, but it's enough to earn his dick a solid squeeze from Cuddy's hand through his pants.

She takes his belt off next, then pushes his pants to the ground. The more naked he gets, the harder all of this will be to explain should they get caught. House knows though that there's no justification that will be believed if someone sees them. They are _far_ from reasonable excuses. It doesn't matter how naked Chase is.

If anyone else realizes the danger, they don't seem to care (a feeling that rubs off on House). Chase is too busy grabbing her ass with one hand, groping a breast the other. Cuddy enjoys the attention, the soft sounds she's making proof of that.

"Nice show," House says with a sneer. "But if you could _include_ me…." His voice gets louder as his partners start to kiss. "That would be nice."

Cuddy instantly and surprisingly pulls away. She tells Chase, "There are condoms in the desk somewhere. Find one, will you? I want you in me."

Her directness is almost frightening for the two men involved. For House, it's not as off putting. He has come to expect this from her when they are like this, when they have sex. By day she flirts, teases, does everything she can to make a man want her warm, curvy body next to hers. But in the actual moment, it becomes obvious that that is little more than an act. She'll have sex, but the intimacy one might imagine occurring is coldly absent, proof that this is done out of need and not much else. House has been okay with this, because he hasn't ever looked for more from her. And after Stacy, he's not interested in taking this further.

He doubts Chase feels any differently. Surely he didn't think having a threesome with his bosses was a sign of true love. But he looks surprised anyway, as though he didn't anticipate how easy all of this would be.

Really, it _shouldn't_ be as simple as it is. There should be complications. Wisely House understands that there are. You don't get to do this without some consequences at some point. That has yet to stop him however; it should be enough, but he hasn't been able to resist Cuddy when he's in the mood for a little fun.

For a second, it looks as though Chase will do what House cannot: _run_. House wonders what it says about him – that he's the cynic unable to escape while Chase, the _idiot_, knows he should leave. The answer almost immediately becomes obvious.

At that second, Cuddy sinks to her hands and knees. She crawls to House. Her ass sways with each step closer, a visual Chase can't look away from. And with that tiny act, it becomes clear why House (and now Chase) can't refuse her.

She's just that good at controlling the situation. It's not manipulation. That's not what House is saying. It's just that she knows _exactly_ when to tease and when to deliver, what to do and how to do it. Which is why she knows that what's needed right now is to crawl in front of him, look up at him with innocent eyes and a dirty smile.

"You wanted attention?" It's not really a question. She doesn't want or wait for an answer.

She rises up to her knees, lets her hands slide along his thighs. There's a pause, a moment intended to make him completely aware of what she's going to do. And he _is_. How could he not be? In the few times they've slept together, she's only done this once – and denied him every time since. Now she's kneeling in front of him and ready to do what he has nearly begged for.

Without any encouragement, she takes his penis into her hand. She strokes him once, but the sensation barely resonates before her mouth is on him.

It's almost obscene the way she takes his cock down her throat. There's no hesitation, no sense of regret or disgust. Under normal circumstances, part of him would wonder if her refusal to suck him off in the past was an act, a way to ensure that he would be grateful for even the tiniest bit of attention from her. But these aren't normal circumstances.

Right now, her tongue bobs along the bottom of his dick. Her throat is tight and hot around him, and that _amazing_ feeling is all it takes to keep him from complaining. Not that there is a single cell of him filled with discontent in that moment. He _loves_ this.

He wants to tell Cuddy this, wants to egg her on when she starts to pump him in and out of her mouth. He can't however. His lips part slightly, so he can breathe heavily. But no words come out. When she's giving him everything he could possibly want in this moment, it's impossible to speak.

She pretends to gag, or maybe she actually does. Her throat tightens around him noisily, and a rush of heat flows through him. Choking on his dick or not, she is bringing him dangerously close to the edge. As she recovers, her eyes cast upward in his direction – something resembling "_Do you like that?" _in her gaze.

It takes all of his self-control to stop himself from thrusting his hips into her face. If she's taunting him, he wants to give her an equally brash answer with his cock. But he knows she won't like that. And more importantly, he hasn't forgotten _Chase_ is in the room.

He's supposed to be rummaging through his desk looking for condoms, but the show Cuddy is putting on is giving him a prominent erection. Chase can't help but watch on jealously.

That doesn't bother House. Cuddy's on her knees in front of _him_. It doesn't matter what the actual balance of power is; he looks like _he's_ the one in charge. She's sucking him off. She's choking on _his_ cock and not pulling away. And he's not doing a damn thing to help her.

Instantly that changes. He presses a hand against the back of her head to push her further onto his dick. This is not an entirely comfortable move to make for her, but he doesn't care. She has to shift on her knees to get closer, to allow his cock to really fuck her, but she doesn't stop him. She just does what he wants. For the first time _ever_, she's giving him everything he needs without bargaining and demanding something from him.

And Chase is a witness to that, adding to the pleasure and power House feels. On its own, what Cuddy's doing is more than enough to have House ready to come. With Chase watching, that need is all the more intense. The extra set of eyes just makes House feel… like a _king_, odd as it is to say that.

The surge in power also, however, forces House to last. He's not sure how much longer he can handle getting blown, but he _definitely_ doesn't want to come too soon. He doesn't want this to end, doesn't want to seem old and pathetic by orgasming before an appropriate amount of time has past. But the way she's sucking him off, it's not going to matter what he wants.

Perhaps she senses then just how close he is. Slowly she pulls away, takes his dick out of her mouth with an obscene and intentional pop. For his benefit only, she licks her lips, pretends like it bothers her that she has to take a break. He's ready to tell her that she _can_ keep going, but she denies him that option.

Turning back to Chase, she asks, "Did you find that condom yet?"

He holds the square foil up for her to see. "I didn't know if –"

"I thought I made it clear that I wanted to have sex with you."

"You did. But I wasn't sure if you wanted both of us… you know, at the same time."

She doesn't even need a second to respond. "It is. Is that all right with you?"

He grins. "Get on the desk." The moment she makes her move, he's ripping open the wrapper and sliding the condom onto his dick.

House watches, wide-eyed and still somewhat mystified that this is happening, as she stands up and approaches the desk he works at every day. She's smart enough to gingerly push his things away, even wiser still to know to carefully place his belongings to the side so that clean up will be easier. No matter how careless she _seems_, part of her has clearly thought every second of this through.

She has no intention of being caught.

When she's sure that she won't knock anything over, she hops onto the desk. Both Chase and House watch her or, to be more specific, her _breasts_ and the way they sway with her movement. They don't have much time to enjoy what she's doing; she quickly lays back on the tabletop, legs spread lewdly and her weight propped up on her elbows.

She doesn't order them to come to her. She doesn't need to. The expectation is both obvious and compelling on its own.

Chase is faster to get to her, although putting it like that makes it sound much more hurried than it is. He doesn't _run_ to her. Of course he doesn't. But before House can even stand up, Chase is in front of her, pushing her down on the desk.

He leans over her, his mouth descending onto hers. She hungrily returns the kiss, sharing with him the taste of House's pre-cum. One of Chase's hands grabs her breast roughly and holds her down as he thrusts into her. Their bodies meet noisily, his balls slapping against her ass, Chase groaning loudly as he sinks into her tight pussy. House has been there. He understands what that's like, wishes he could be the one fucking her like that.

Cuddy's hands are on Chase's back, her fingernails scratching his pale skin. He returns her roughness by letting his teeth nip at her breast. Now, she's the one to make the noises, hissing and sighing with pleasure all at the same time.

With her audible approval, Chase draws his hips back and pushes into her again. Straightening his back, he is able to screw her with strong thrusts that make her moan.

House watches them fuck. In the back of his mind, he knows he should join in. Cuddy's mouth is begging for his cock to shut her up. But he suddenly understands why Chase had been hesitant to announce that he'd found the condom. There's something to be said for _just_ watching.

Before him are two incredibly attractive people – Cuddy, with her perfect curves and tight nipples, and Chase, who is better looking than any man House has ever seen and filled with the kind of sexual prowess only youth can provide. Together, they are undeniably appealing. But this is more than just pornography. The fact that House knows both of them, that his dick is smeared with Cuddy's saliva, that he can join in at any moment… _that's_ what makes this special. He knows the people involved, and they are doing this in front of him, understanding that he is here, accepting the risk they've taken.

Chase breaks through House's thoughts with a harsh jerk of his pelvis. His dick driving into Cuddy roughly, she suddenly begs, "House."

It's the closest House has ever come to hearing her plead during sex. As tonight has proven, she is demanding, unyielding – but never needy. Yet here she is, looking over at him with eyes that yearn for him to come close. Part of him wants to make her go further with this. He would like nothing more than to hear her whine and cry for him. Push too hard, however, and he won't get anything. He knows that. She has said that she'll do what he wants, but he sees in that moment that he needs to be careful. If he humiliates her, _that_ won't go unanswered. She's desperate enough to do as he wishes right now. He'll pay for it later though.

And what exactly will he be getting at the moment that's worth being punished in the end? The acknowledgement that she wants him? He already knows that she does. She's _here_, after all. He doesn't need any more proof of her desire. And Chase doesn't need any additional evidence that House is a lucky bastard for having ever had Cuddy attracted to him. So really, there's no point in making her beg, no real benefit other than some temporary feeling of power.

House wants many things from her, but the truth is, with the way she's looking at him, he'll get all of that if he plays nicely. He keeps that in mind as he moves around to the other side of the desk. But then it's kind of hard to forget that he's in the middle of a fantasy being lived out. Whether it was initially hers or not, the wish being fulfilled is all around him, and it's exhilarating. He wants this as much as she does.

The second he's in front of her, he smiles down at Cuddy. She returns the look before letting her mouth fall open. He raises an eyebrow at the invitation as if to ask if she's sure she _really_ wants another dick in her. Of course, she does. But Chase manages to force the answer out of her when he thrusts into her particularly hard.

"_Yes_," she nearly screams, her voice raspy. She tries to raise her head off the desk, but House pushes it back down.

"Much as I like to hear her do that," Chase says slowly, as he forces himself to concentrate. "She's going to get us caught… and I don't know about you, but… this is too good to stop."

House smirks, moves closer to the desk so that his balls are in reach of Cuddy's tongue. She knows what he wants and eagerly gives it to him by kissing, licking, lightly sucking him. He forces himself to ignore the sensation long enough to tell Chase cockily, "She gets louder – _if_ you do her right."

It's not entirely a lie. Chase is doing _okay_, fine even, but Cuddy's practically silent compared to what House has seen. He would like to think that that had something to do with him. In case it doesn't though, he doesn't give Cuddy a chance to speak. Hands on her cheeks, he holds her head still. He quickly begins to push his dick into her mouth.

Given the way she's positioned, he has to work a little to get his length into her completely. But she's patient, unmoving, even though Chase is pounding her pussy. It hits him then just how much she wants this.

This isn't an act born out of necessity, no matter what she might say. This is something she has wanted for a while; she must have, because she's doing her best to make sure both men are included, getting what they want. She isn't being selfish enough, out of control enough for this to be a last minute choice. This is a fantasy she's kept with her for a while.

Her tongue slides along the top of House's cock, the warmth and wetness making the awkward angle worth it, making her fantasy worth it _for him_.

Chase tries to ruin the moment for him by interrupting, "I think I'm doing fine." He reaches down and strokes Cuddy's clit, sending her into a loud orgasm. For a moment, neither Chase nor House can say anything. Her pussy and throat grip them tightly, preventing all rational thought from getting through. Not even the fact that Chase has proven his point means anything to any of them. The culmination of the fantasy for her is too powerful to ignore.

House closes his eyes to will himself to maintain control. He's just started to fuck her mouth again; he's not ready to come yet. And he won't do that, not when he can still hear Chase thrusting into her. It might not even be possible to outlast the younger man. The noise Cuddy's making vibrate against House's erection, and that alone is almost enough to make him orgasm. But House will certainly try to keep going. One look at Chase, and it's clear he's not going to give in easily either.

No one benefits from their shared determination more than Cuddy. Stuffed at both ends, she is happily at their mercy. Her hands are balled into fists. Her nipples are tight, breasts swaying, as her lovers do their best to screw her as thoroughly as possible.

Chase moves his hands to the backs of her knees, pushes on her legs until her thighs are practically on the table and her feet are in the air. The change in depth has her moaning uncontrollably against House's cock, and her increased pleasure easily becomes his.

And then the competition between House and Chase suddenly disappears. Silently they understand that it's pointless. The woman between them is out of her mind turned on right now, another orgasm hitting her at that moment. Technically they have done more than enough for her. They have every right to get what they want from this now. More importantly, they see that it all benefits them in the end. The more they focus on Cuddy and _not_ on disagreeing with each other, the better this is for _them_.

But House knows that, for him at least, there is… _something_ else. It's not just the way her tongue moves over his cock with each of his thrust or the way her throat encases him every time she makes a sound. It's not solely that she's on _his_ desk, that they could be caught at any moment – _again_ – or that Chase has now become a witness to something they've managed to keep secret for months. It's all of those things, yes, but also…

House likes to watch.

When his gaze settles on Cuddy's mound and Chase's dick pushing into her, the condom wet with her juices, House realizes that he's getting off on seeing that. It's _hot_.

He can't help but stare, even as he feels Chase looking back at him with equal intensity. Afterwards they won't want to look at each other at all, and House isn't sure how long it will be before the memory of this doesn't taint every exchange they have. But he doesn't care about that anymore.

The tension, the _heat_ between their bodies, is all he can think of in that moment. Cuddy's tongue runs back and forth along his cock as she is fucked mercilessly. And ultimately, it's House's undoing.

He wants this to last, but her mouth and throat and tongue are too warm, too wet, too much. His hands move to her breasts so that he can thrust into her with greater force, and the second he does that, it's over for him. He's so hot and tense he can barely see, and then he can't breathe. Pleasure rushes through him quickly, overtaking him.

Forcefully he comes, fingers digging into her tits. In his head, he hears a loud _yes_, but it doesn't register until much later that it's Chase practically shouting as he has his own orgasm. In the moment, the noise doesn't seem real, is such an accurate encapsulation of what House is feeling that the word seems to come from within him. And without even thinking about it, he orgasms inside her, come spilling out of him and into her mouth and throat.

She nearly chokes as she instinctively tries to swallow. But he's so overcome with desire being realized that all he can do is thrust in and out of her and ride the feeling out.

By the time he pulls out, Cuddy is red-faced, and Chase is tossing the used condom in the trash.

The tone instantly sobers House.

Whatever they shared is over now.

There is no warmth between them as they start to get dressed. Chase is the quickest, and with only a silent nod to House that this will be kept between them, he leaves. Cuddy finishes next, which isn't surprising given how focused she is on the task. But instead of leaving, she goes back out onto the balcony. For a second, House watches her, unsure of what she's doing, why she isn't leaving. When it becomes clear he won't find an answer by looking though, he continues putting his clothes on. Only once he's done that and straightened up his desk does he join her on the balcony.

She doesn't turn to look at him, so he says to catch her attention, "Don't tell me you're thinking about jumping."

There's a smirk on her face when she finally acknowledges his presence. "It was a threesome, not an existential crisis."

"Those things aren't mutually exclusive."

"And," she says, ignoring his point. "I'm hot. I don't want to look like I just had sex when I leave."

He can see that she's right. Her cheeks are still pink, hair damp with sweat – both hers and _his_. If she left now, anyone who saw her would know something happened, and that's not an option. They have, he realizes, miscalculated this night.

"We should have gone to your place," he says regretfully.

She's irritated by the sentiment however. "I'll be fine in a few minutes, and no one will be the wiser."

"You're going to act like this wasn't completely stupid then," he deduces, walking toward the edge of the balcony and looking out over the city once more.

He sees out of the corner of his eye Cuddy shaking her head. "You weren't going to tell anyone – _obviously_. And unless he wanted to always be seen as a teacher's pet, Chase wasn't going to –"

"But _at _the hospital," he counters for the sake of discussion.

"We weren't going to get caught."

"Technically we _were_ –"

"I meant aside from Chase." Carefully she explains, "The oncology benefit was already over, which meant half the people here were home already and the other half were too drunk or too busy with their job or having sex with each other. As far as risks go, this was a gamble I was willing to make."

House finds that his gaze returns to her face as she speaks. As much as he wants to keep this conversation casual, he can't help but want to know if she's telling the truth.

It's not that he thinks she's a liar. It's that… he can't imagine that she's being honest. She's too nonchalant about it. She's too cold. But looking at her, he sees that she _is_ telling the truth.

For a moment he doesn't know what to say. He's obviously behaved questionably enough times in the hospital to realize he doesn't have the right to judge her. And truth be told, he doesn't. If she's okay with what's happened, far be it from him to correct her is the way he sees it. Yet… it's still shocking to him. He didn't expect this from her.

He doesn't let on to that however. If anything, his response is casual; he hasn't earned any more candor than what she has provided already.

"And you tried to convince me you _didn't_ come up here for sex, you dirty liar," he says in mock admonishment.

"I didn't say I came here looking for sex. I didn't even imply that."

"You didn't have to."

"I came up here to congratulate you. That's all. But when things… changed, I didn't mind going along with it," she says simply. "I wanted the last time to be memorable, and it was."

His mind directly narrows in on her phrasing.

The last time.

He knows what she means; she doesn't want to do this again. She doesn't want to do _him_ again. And that fills him with a kind of dread he can't explain. He comes to understand then that he has used her as a crutch throughout the years – an infrequent one but one nonetheless. Habit, not love, makes him reluctant to let Cuddy go, the prospect of spending months… maybe even years without having sex with someone he knows and trusts seeming bleak.

It would almost be enough to make him sad, but he realizes suddenly that it's the same for her. She's no better, no different, and he smiles then knowingly.

He tells her simply:

"That wasn't the last time."

She hesitates to agree but after a moment does. Although he pretends not to care, he's happy when she says, "Well… the last time with _Chase_ anyway."

_The End_


End file.
